


Musings of an Illusive Man

by DaeMEon



Series: The Good Daughter [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, F/M, Het, Politics, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaeMEon/pseuds/DaeMEon
Summary: It's the final stages of the Lazarus Project. The Illusive Man recollects his meeting with Miranda Lawson and her rise in his organization.





	Musings of an Illusive Man

“I want my daughter back!” These were Henry Lawson’s first words after his call finally got through to Jack Harper. He has been boiling for a while and Harper stalled for a few days just for his amusement before he took the call.  
“I want my daughter back, Harper,” Lawson said, in a mildly threatening way. He looked haggard and disheveled on the vidcom.

That was seventeen years ago, and around this time of the year, The Illusive Man found himself in a reminiscent mood as he watched Miranda Lawson step into his skycar in front of The Royal Albert Hall. Harper was not particularly nostalgic, but he did like to keep track of his victories and evaluate the results he got from them.

Seventeen years. One of his finest investments, clad in a form-hugging, classic blue gown. Not too ostentatious, not too conservative. Discreet elegance. A class of her own, beaming as she settled in across from him, still under the spell of a night of grand symphonies.

The Illusive Man watched her quietly while their car pulled away to take them to the hotel for a nice dinner. It felt rude to break her reverent mood with any talk, so he just observed quietly. By now he knew that Miranda didn’t mind the silence and preferred to just stare out the windscreen and let him – yes, _let him_ watch her.

Seventeen years: half her life she has been with Cerberus and the moment she appeared at his doorstep he knew he stumbled upon something special. 

* * *

He was hosting a fundraiser event at the time, on the American West Coast, in the sprawling megalopolis that engulfed most of the California seaside.

In those days Cerberus was in its expansion stage and Jack Harper could still maintain a more public facade without risking being tied to the organization. Only a handful of his most generous donors knew he was connected to Cerberus, and even fewer people paid enough to get to meet him in person. To the rest of the world, he was just one name on the list of the 500 richest people on Earth, a few dozen places behind investor and magnate Henry Lawson.

It was at this party, standing on the first floor balcony overlooking the main hall and the terrace, that somebody caught his attention in the party crowd. There was something strange about this particular guest, but it wasn’t her behavior—she wasn’t some party crasher or someone casing out the place. She moved naturally enough through the crowd, maybe a bit smitten by the high-society crowd. It wasn’t even the fact that she seemed to be alone. She was trying her best to blend in, but Harper had a keen eye for style and class, and noticed that something was off. It wasn’t a big crowd, but these people spent more on their hairdresser than this young woman spent on her entire outfit.

He kept watching from the corner of his eye while talking to a producer, trying to catch a glimpse of her face, and when he did, he couldn’t help but let out an amused grunt. The producer fell quiet, looking at him confused, as if he blew his chance to sell him his idea. The poor man never had a chance, but Harper completely lost interest once he recognized Henry Lawson’s runaway daughter at his party.

By that time he already knew about Henry’s… misfortune, that he was frantically looking for _both_ of his daughters. Harper didn’t want to get involved, so he didn’t ask for the details, but it did make him curious. Maybe now it was time to finally find out how a teenager pulled of such a feat.

“Excuse me, Frank,” he patted the producer on his arm. “It seems like my staff needs my attention. Please, let’s continue this later. Enjoy the party.”

And with that, he stepped away, already signalling to his chief of security. He shot one more glance at the girl wandering around in the crowd and then started to walk away towards the back of the house.

“There’s an uninvited guest downstairs,” Harper said to his man while another guard joined them. “Dark hair, red cocktail dress, looks less than twenty.”

The security chief nodded and both of them scanned the crowd from the back staircase.

“At the fountain?”  
“That’s her,” Harper nodded. “I want you to pull her out of there.”

“She’s not on the guest list?” the chief asked, seemingly annoyed about them missing the freeloader.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. She is very clever. Amateur, but clever. She won’t make a scene, but don’t underestimate her. I don’t want her to get away.”

“Yes, sir,” the chief nodded and motioned to his second in command. “Take three guys with you.”

As the bodyguard walked off, the chief of security and Harper retreated to the security room and watched the scene unfold on the monitors, a silent drama on eight screens. Well-dressed guards started to wade into the crowd inconspicuously, closing in on the Lawson girl from all direction. She noticed it a few seconds too late and tried to evade them, slipping between small groups of chatting people. She certainly had the grace if not the expertise and the finesse to pull it off. Harper watched curiously as she made her choices, making note what she was looking at, what she noticed, what tricks she tried to slip out of the closing trap. 

He smiled faintly, amused at the nervous attempts and how she drew the attention of more and more guests who gave her strange looks.

The bodyguards were discreet, herding her towards the farthest corner, their moves coordinated on the comms by the chief of security and the technician keeping the cameras on her. And then the fifth guard she didn’t see was there grabbed her from behind, and in the strategic cover of the arriving guards, he dragged her out into a back corridor without a noise.

Nobody saw a thing.

Harper waited for the report on the comms to hear that the girl was secured and locked down in the laundry room, under guard.

The chief of security turned towards him. “What do you want done with her, sir?”

Harper followed the guards leading the girl away on the screens. “Just keep her under guard.” He watched as they threw Miranda Lawson down on a chair and cuffed her hands behind her back. “Make a show of interrogating her. Just the basics, no need for violence. Let her stew a bit. I’ll be there and talk to her later.”

“Yes, sir,” the chief nodded and relayed the instructions, stepping out, leaving him alone with the security technician.

He kept staring at the screen showing Miranda Lawson getting questioned by one of his men. He watched her reactions carefully, half-listening to the conversation. She didn’t seem intimidated, and there was a certain determination in her gestures, even if she lacked confidence. It wasn’t important. The girl was here, and he had a pretty good idea why.

He recalled their last meeting at Henry’s party, and remembered vividly as she undressed for him. She was, indeed, a perfect specimen, the best money and cutting-edge biogenetics could buy. She tried to hold onto her dignity, a bit defiant at the beginning, getting more and more manageable as things progressed and he could tell by her clumsiness that she was not used to being treated gently in bed. He also knew she was sent to him by her father. And now she came to him on her own.

He pushed his thoughts and the vision of the naked girl from his mind and left the control room without another word, collecting his thoughts as he made his way down to the laundry room.

There was a man guarding the door. Noticing Harper approaching, he knocked on the door quietly. Another security officer stepped out and greeted Harper by the time he got there.

“How did it go?” Harper asked.  
“She’s okay for a rookie,” the man shrugged. “She said she wanted to talk to you.”

He nodded to the man who opened the door and led him inside. The Lawson girl looked up from her chair, a bit ruffled and staring up at them defiantly. Harper signaled to the guard to uncuff her, and stood silently until the man finished and stepped outside after another nod from him.

He had a few, long seconds to size Miranda up until they were alone. The girl still held herself proudly, but the last few months left their marks on her. She was unkempt, a bit pale and thinner. Her clothes were cheap compared to the usual fare at a party like this, eyes more wary and sunken, hiding her nervousness behind her still sharp, icy blue stare.

“Miss Lawson. To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
“Are you going to send me back to him?” the girl asked cautiously.  
“I haven’t decided yet,” Harper shrugged, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it. He watched Miranda’s features harden as she gathered her courage.

“I… I want to take you up on your offer,” Miranda blurted out after a second of hesitation.  
Harper remembered making a passing remark about possible future career options. The girl seem to have listened more carefully than he thought.  
She took a deep breath and got into her probably well practiced argument to make her case. “About working for you… your organization. I know that–”

He sighed and waved her off, the girl falling silent surprisingly quickly. He had to appreciate her straightforwardness. She must have been desperate to get straight to the point before feeling out her chances. He had to consider the possibilities, though.  
“Miranda. I am sure you are aware that your father is one of my most generous donors and supported my endeavors with not only money but other resources and connections.”

“I am aware about what Henry provides for you, Mr. Harper. Certainly, you remember the kind of… incentives he offered you the last time,” she said finally, her voice raspy, her lips twitching into a bitter smirk.

He had to admit, that was a nice jab. Of small value in a negotiation, but showing her spirit.

“You are putting me in an awkward position here, Miranda,” he chided her sternly. He could see the girl’s confidence evaporating. To her credit, she hid it well, apart from her jaw tightening while she was thinking hard about her response. 

“Maybe I can make you a better offer, Mr. Harper. Without any of the obligations that Henry would attach to my– uh, services,” she said quickly, trying to get the words out before the remainder of her confidence evaporated. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, blushing as she continued. “I know you were not satisfied with my… performance, but I can assure you, I have other skills and I learn fast–”

Harper lifted a hand to stop her. “Wait. Why do you think I was not satisfied?”

This caught Miranda off-guard, too. “Henry told me after you left so quickly. He was very disappointed–” she shrugged, letting the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

It was Harper’s turn to frown. This was curious, indeed. It all started to make sense. It was clear for both of them that Henry Lawson probably planned to use the girl as a bargaining chip to gain a more direct influence in Cerberus – as an underling at best, a fashion accessory at worst. It was hard to tell with Lawson: he spent a fortune on his dynasty project, refining it at great costs until the best and smartest version emerged, and yet, treating her as a commodity to be traded for power and never acknowledging Miranda’s other qualities.

“I see.” he murmured thoughtfully, seeing that the silence growing between them started to make Miranda nervous. He wondered, who should have been more insulted when Henry sent his daughter to Harper’s bedroom: Miranda for being used as a piece of meat, or he for Henry thinking that he could buy his way into Cerberus using sex as currency. Probably both of them. 

Regardless of the pleasures of the night, he was disappointed in Lawson’s shallow play that night. Good old Henry misread the signs, and guessing by the girl’s reaction, he took it out on her.

“What do you want, Miranda?” he said finally, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Miranda Lawson took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, there was a fresh kind of resolve in her gaze– the familiar look of somebody who had nothing to lose and didn’t hope to win. He had a vague feeling that he saw her like this before…

“I need protection for myself… and my sister,” she said, clearly uneasy to ask for such a big favor.

“Ah, yes. Oriana,” Harper nodded. The variable nobody expected in Henry’s master plan. He had to chuckle to himself. “That was an incredibly risky move, Miranda. Kidnapping a child from her father… That complicates things.”

Miranda pressed her lips thin and nodded in admission. 

“Surely, you understand that I had to get her away from him.”

“That part is none of my business, Miranda,” Harper shrugged.

She must have misread the signals, because she slowly stood up and reached for the strap of her dress.

“I’m willing to do anything to keep her safe…” she started quietly, but Harper lifted his hand again quickly to stop her.

“That’s completely unnecessary, Miranda,” he said, watching the red fabric stretch over the swell of her breasts, merely an inch away from revealing her pale curves. It was very tempting, but right now, Harper could only feel his frustration growing.

Watching the girl blush in embarrassment and trying to regain her composure, he could only think about how badly Henry Lawson screwed up. Not just by underestimating the daughter he created to be too smart for his own good and letting her beat him at his own game, but by almost ruining the girl’s confidence and self-esteem. Harper could only hope the damage could be reversed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Miranda,” he said, sensing her despair. “Henry was a fool to squander his opportunity.”

Miranda stood awkwardly, trying to figure out what this meant for her. Normally, Harper would have used the opportunity to wring out the best deal from the situation, especially that the girl played her entire hand while he barely showed his cards. He saw and heard enough to weigh his options.

“My offer still stands. I am always on the lookout for talents, and I am sure your–” he paused briefly and smirked. “I am sure Henry had your best interest in mind, too, when he brought you to my attention.”

He saw the girl’s eye go wide as the realization started to sink in.

“You would really do that?”

Harper nodded in amusement. “After all, that was my offer and that’s what Henry would have wanted anyway.”

Miranda’s relief was palpable. Maybe because she was glad she didn’t have to offer her body, or because she was running out of arguments to make her case. Regardless, for a brief second, the shadows of worry were gone from her features. Until she frowned.

“What about Henry?” she asked hesitantly.

“Henry is a short-sighted fanatic. He never really saw past the surface and understood what Cerberus was about,” Harper said. He decided the girl deserved a little pep-talk, a brief glance of what was waiting for her.

“He is driven by greed, and his idea of power is an outdated myth. He was… what you would call a useful idiot, but lately it was becoming a nuisance. Frankly, if I have to choose between his patronage in exchange for letting him get a say in my organization, and…” he paused to gesture towards Miranda, “... his greatest and most successful investment that he was willing to let go to waste…” he shrugged, not finishing the sentence. 

“I’m starting to think that he didn’t know what he had. Not really. Maybe this way, I get to recruit a potentially valuable asset with no strings attached, and maybe get rid of some ballast in the meantime. Maybe it could be better investment in the long run.”

He watched her face turn serious. This kind of talk was familiar to her, all business, no awkward social pleasantries, and although she winced a bit when Harper referred to her as a valuable asset, he could tell that she knew it was true. Unpleasant, but true. Harper was not trying to be intentionally rude, just stating the facts. It was also a reminder to her that she won’t get special treatment.

He didn’t want to end it on such a harsh note, though, and it never hurt to acknowledge her considerable value.  
“I’m planning far ahead, Miranda, and I am well aware of your potential. You can rest assured, that you will be judged on your merits. That’s the offer I can make.”

That seemed to put the girl at ease. He knew she was just as smart as she was beautiful, and had a sharp mind. The rest would come with experience, and maybe he could undo the damage Henry done to her in a matter of years. Yes, he could already see it…

* * *

They arrived at the hotel and took the elevator to the top floor, to one of the best restaurants in the city, overlooking London at its best: dark, and sparkling with a miriad of lights. Miranda’s attention was back in the present, focused and sharp again.

Having lunch with her was one of Jack Harper’s favorite past-time over the years. They only met like this once, maybe twice every year, ever since Cerberus gained notoriety, and Miranda rose in the ranks and ran her operations more independently. By this time, they had to be more careful about showing up in public, but it was worth it.

He considered this as a one-on-one meeting with perks: no talk of business. That would come later, privately, but now it was just small talk and relaxing which, apparently, Miranda Lawson was incapable of on her own. She was annoyed at first when he occasionally had to order her to take a vacation, or refrain from talking about official stuff when they met outside of work. It was amusing to watch her sulk at first, but after he pulled the boss card, she always conceded and ended up enjoying herself to some degree.

The girl who showed up desperate at his doorsteps all those years ago turned into a formidable force, exceeding both of their expectations. She proved to be the best at whatever she set her mind to, and worked hard to climb in the ranks. And she did not do it just out of obligation or gratitude. She did it because she could. This dedication did not help her to socialize outside of work, or make too many friends, for that matter. Years of suffering under her father’s tyranny and the drive to prove herself buried her softer, warmer side. Despite getting the best out of the deal, Harper sometimes felt a bit of a regret that she was never free from care.

She impressed him right away when she explained how she spent a year planning the escape. She was slow to trust that Harper would keep his word and he could not fault her for it. Once she did, he dispatched a team of operators to keep Oriana’s foster family under watch and arrange a few promotions and job offers to keep them safe and on the move if necessary. 

At the insistence of Harper, Miranda returned to finish her studies and got her degree at the university before beginning her training at a Cerberus facility. That’s when he received the phonecall from Henry Lawson.

“I want my daughter back, Harper,” Henry said on the vidcom, his tone cold and strained.  
“I’m afraid I cannot help you, Henry,” he replied politely enough. “Miranda is an adult woman. She offered her services herself... Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Don’t you fucking play with me, Jack! I did not spend all that fortune and effort on her just so you can snatch her away like that!”

“Well then, Henry, maybe you should have taken better care of your investment, shouldn’t you?”

Henry’s face turned a darker shade of red.  
“Are you really trying to lecture me about parenting, Jack? Since when are you this great humanitarian?”

“I have always been a humanitarian, Henry,” Jack replied, trying to contain his amusement. He didn’t want to unnecessarily rile up Lawson. If he pushed him too hard, Lawson could have made Harper’s life harder and could really impede his plans for Cerberus. He needed to choose his words carefully and speak a language that Henry Lawson would understand. “Far be it from me to explain to you how to treat a person, let alone your daughter. I am talking purely about business and protecting assets. And trust. Look at it this way: I’m sure you lured valuable employees with better offers from other companies to work for you. This is not much different.”

This made Henry think at least a little bit. Harper could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come up with a counter-argument. He could tell that Lawson had none. He was a shrewd businessman, building a very successful empire of his own, so he must know when he lost a battle. He probably went through several versions of how the rest of the argument would play out and realized that anything he said could be turned against him.

“This is inconceivable… Miranda shouldn’t have been able to do this…” he muttered, shaking his head.

Harper shrugged. This didn’t make much sense to him, unless Henry Lawson was this far detached from reality. He was certainly turning out to be quite a sociopath.

“This is just further proof that she is a disappointment. Even on a genetic level. I have no use for her like this anyway.” The man sighed. He was conceding defeat, which was the smart thing to do. Harper could appreciate that Lawson did not try to double down. He needed to cut his losses.

“You might think that you played me, Harper, but you will eventually find out that Miranda is of little value… even outside of her education,” he smirked, waving the matter away just like that. “However…”

And now for the bargaining phase…

“I think we can both agree that Oriana is a whole different issue. She still holds value. Surely, we can strike an agreement where you keep my most expensive investment, but you have no use for a mere toddler.”

Harper nodded. Here came the painful part.

“I cannot help you with that, Henry. Oriana is part of the deal I made with Miranda. I specifically asked her not to involve me in the details…”

“But you already are involved, Harper! Don’t be a fool! I am still her father and technically, this is still kidnapping. I am not sure you realize the gravity of the situation.”

“Oh, but I do, Henry. I can assure you.”  
“Are you willing to get caught up in a criminal investigation? The publicity?”

Harper fell silent. He went through the act of pondering about it, taking time to light a cigarette.

“Do what you must, Henry,” he said finally with a long exhale of smoke. Time to strike the final blow. “I am sure the resulting investigation would include figuring out who gets custody. I hear courts still favor the mother…”

Henry Lawson almost let out a frustrated roar.  
“This is an outrage, Harper! You are risking a lot of money and support if you go down this path.”

Harper shrugged. “I’ll take my chances.”

“This is not over, Jack!” Henry screamed and cut the call.

* * *

Seventeen years later, and Henry Lawson was still holding a grudge. He was smart enough to only cut ties with Cerberus and did not try to meddle into Harper’s affairs, but he kept looking for Oriana. Harper had to assign a detail to watch over the family, and he would have pondered whether the return of investment was worth it, but as soon as Miranda returned to the university under another set of watchful eyes and her grades started to come in, he knew he made the right call.

Eventually he transferred over supervision of the team to Miranda, who kept their presence to a bare minimum and established other contacts that could alert her and freed some of the Cerberus resources from the task, which was all the more impressive.

After that, it was a clear path for Miranda Lawson, a stellar rise in the ranks with the efficiency and calculated determination that became her trademarks within the organization. She really made it easy for Harper to accomplish his goals and build Cerberus into the force for humanity that he always wanted. She was the missing piece of puzzle in his command structure that saw Oleg Petrovsky handling strategic operations that required his considerable military skills, Kai Leng for the wetworks: assassinations and silent sabotages to ensure the organization remained on par with its asari, salarian and turian counterparts, and Miranda Lawson eventually taking over espionage and political operations. Harper himself retained control over the research and development projects, keeping the gathered intel and innovation close to his chest and only involving the others on a need to know basis.

It all worked out perfectly. After undoing most of the damage Henry Lawson caused in her confidence, Miranda flourished in the organization. While she became a master of subtle manipulation and seduction, moving easily in the high societies, using her smarts and charms on men, women and asari alike, she was also sharp and could handle the political and economical aspects to make the right calls. As confident as she was about her intelligence and skills, and as easily as she could use her fluid sexuality, it came with a price. Learning to manipulate people and moving on to the next target meant she was just as awkward to form lasting connections and relationships as before. This was something that Henry Lawson no doubt intended, and as much as it would have been fair for Miranda to become a “normal” person, it would have interfered with Harper’s plans. She didn’t seem to mind.

Seventeen years, and here they were. His leadership team performing at their peak, all the wheels in motion, and their biggest undertaking getting close to fruition: Miranda was given command of the Lazarus Project, drawing on her studies in genetics and bioengineering, and eighteen months in they were making strides in reviving humanity’s greatest hope, Commander Shepard.

Certainly, it was time to celebrate. A good concert and a pleasant dinner was the least they deserved. By the time dessert was served, they exhausted all topics worth discussing over food. They retreated to their suites, refreshed, and in about an hour, Miranda knocked on his door as planned.

Harper let her in, admiring the view from the living room. She changed into a more casual outfit, an elegant mini-dress, stockings and heels, and let her hair down. Slightly more revealing, and certainly more comfortable.

“Miranda. Come,” he motioned her into the living room, already pouring two glasses of Clarendon Hill. Miranda took it with a smile and a soft thank you.

“To Miranda Lawson. And to the Lazarus Project,” Harper said, raising his glass. 

“To you… and the Lazarus Project,” Miranda replied.

The crystals clinked and they drank. Silence once again stretched between them, but this time, there was something else in the air, too. They both knew what they wanted next.

“Thank you for the wonderful night,” Miranda said, putting down her glass.  
“I think we can afford this much luxury for ourselves once in a while,” Harper nodded, his glowing blue eyes roaming over Miranda’s figure.

The woman was blushing, partly from the fine wine, but partly in anticipation. She reached for the shoulder straps and with a soft smile, she peeled off the dress, letting it slip down and pool around the curves of her hip, revealing her exquisite lingerie, delicate lace patterns highlighting the perfect roundness of her breasts.

She put one knee on the chair Harper was sitting in, gently pressing her thigh against his crotch, her hands resting gracefully on his shoulders as she leaned closer. 

Gone was the awkward girl who didn’t know what to do with a man who did not want to force himself on her, alternating between defiance, sulking and meek submission. This Miranda was confident, seductive, a siren. Maybe she just learned to fake it, part of her training in those early years, but Harper only needed a few minutes to make sure that her smiles and moans and alluring moves were genuine.

He could imagine Miranda always staying in control in bed, regardless of the gender or race of her partner, but he also knew that under the right hands, she was a very manageable, precious creature capable of pleasing and taking her own pleasure.

It took years for her to trust, and Harper wisely did not push it. His schedule was already packed with famous actresses, models, celebrities and professionals, and he could get anybody else he wanted. Those were trophies, entertainment, distraction. Miranda Lawson was his prize, his reward for doing well, for building Cerberus with the best individuals, planning well ahead.

In seventeen years, there were only a handful of occasion he indulged in the pleasures that Miranda could provide, and what he could provide for her. He waited until she was ready and always made it into an occasion to bed the objectively most perfect human woman in the galaxy. He imagined she needed it, too, and not just to express her gratitude, but to remind herself of her own accomplishments and worth.

It did not affect their work relationship and none of them felt obligated to make anything more out of it than an occasional indulgence. And what an indulgence it was. Her spotless, smooth skin, tight muscles, gently swaying hips, playfully bouncing breasts slipped free from the black, lacy bra, with firm, pale nipples already hardening in anticipation – always the first to draw his undivided attention while her hands gripped his shoulder or stroke the back of his head.

He felt her eagerness rising, her taste filling his mouth, the need to return the favor making her slide down to kneel on the floor and fumble for his crotch, peeling away his pants to grab hold of his own throbbing arousal.

It was a magnificent sight, watching Miranda Lawson on her knees, her slender fingers and full, red lips working to make him hard and ready, a thin layer of slippery saliva massaged into his skin, getting his hardness ready for her.

It was never vulgar, the way she strived to please him, or the way he firmly took control and guided her head with gentle pushes, and eventually pulling her back up into his lap. She didn’t bother to take off her panties, just pulled it aside and helped him guide her down onto his erection. The warm, velvety walls surrounded him and gripped him and they settled into a slow, perfect rhythm, accompanied by her soft, breathless sighs and moans.

They took their time, rocking each other to the peak, his hands firmly gripping her hips, those wonderful, firm cheeks that really represented her genetical and aesthetic perfection.

He enjoyed her erratic twitches and jerks, the loud gasps as she came, waiting for her climax to ebb, just to enjoy every second of it before he took his own pleasure. It was exquisite, as always.

But it wasn’t the end of it, as they both got a bit greedy and after a few minutes of careful exploration it started all over again, this time out of the chair, onto the couch and the coffee table. Miranda never seemed to prefer the bed. He could understand, and also appreciate her unconventional approach. He could watch her voluptuous breasts sway at his every thrust as she laid back onto the small table, arms pinned above her head as he gripped her firmly by the wrists, and accentuate her almost hourglass figure, and give a show of her torso rocking and snaking while her pale legs spread and rested gently on his hips. He could watch his gleaming, wet hardness plow into her bald mound, folds parted and glistening pink and wet, making tiny noises stretched around him with every move. He could watch her face, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, lush lips parted as she gasped and moaned in pleasure while he took them over the edge again.

And then he could grip those full, firm cheeks while she knelt on the couch, her back arching into a delicate curve, making her waist seem thinner and her hips impossibly round, rippling from the impact of his pumping lap. Her pale, spotless skin radiating warmth under his exploring palms, until he tangled it into her unruly, dark locks and grab a hard fistful of it to yank her head back roughly for the final stretch and watch her lustful expression until bliss took over. He figured out quickly that if he started gently and gradually increased the intensity, she not only didn’t mind but submitted to it even more eagerly. Probably a residue of her father’s treatment that he exploited, but as long as she didn’t resist– 

Miranda came again with a breathless cry, and he was quick to follow, and then it was over. She collapsed bonelessly onto the couch, panting heavily, arms and legs dangling limp, while he dropped down next to her and let her recover. She eventually curled up next to his hip, making soft sounds of contention and exhaustion, until her scattered mind cleared and refocused. He suspected he could make her lie on the floor at his feet if he wanted to, and she would be okay with it, but it would be too… _vulgar_. He could have that with others, more plain affairs, or high-end professionals, who also dressed the part.

But not with her.

Long minutes have passed until both of them cooled down and caught their breath, Harper sipping a glass of whiskey, watching Miranda recover, then sit up with a timid smile as she excused herself and took a quick shower.

She returned with her hair and makeup fixed, wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe and made it look smart and classy as she reached for her refilled glass of wine. She dropped down on the couch, legs pulled up and sipped her drink thoughtfully while Harper refreshed himself, too, and returned to his chair with a fresh shot of whiskey poured.

“Now, Miranda” he said, almost chiding her. “Do you still feel like talking about work?”  
Miranda scoffed, smiling as she snuggled deeper into the couch, sitting neatly sideways.  
“Am I that bad?” she mused, twirling her glass of wine.  
Harper shrugged. “That’s why I hired you. It’s not your dedication that’s frustrating sometimes.”

The woman laughed softly, catching the very fine hints of his teasing. She might be a workaholic but she had a sense of humor and could handle a little banter.

“I would be less antsy if not for the incident the other week.”  
And still she went there. Not that Harper had an issue with it, but sometimes her lack of self-awareness was amusing.

“Yes, I saw the reports. Premature awakening. I trust everything is sorted out?”  
“Of course. All vital signs are normal, no damage. But it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What’s your theory?”  
“Right now? My best case scenario that it was an accident. An error in the dosage for the sedative compounds. A minor lapse in the batching process.”

Harper nodded thoughtfully. “You have been sailing in uncharted territory for eighteen months now, Miranda. It was bound to happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen more often.”

Miranda frowned. “That’s why it bothers me. It was unprecedented. It could have been worse.”

“But it wasn’t, Miranda. You handled it well. And it’s a credit to the Lazarus Project that you managed to get this far.”  
“Of course we did. I have the best people working on it.”  
“And you drive them hard. It’s a good team.”

“Yeah,” she smirked. She did not say it, but Harper could tell that she was still pissed of at Wilson, whom she blamed for the hiccup. She was probably right, and they sent him on a short, supervised R&R, but it was more for everybody’s peace of mind than for discipline.

“This is the last opportunity,” Miranda said.  
Here she goes again, Harper sighed.  
“We have been over this, Miranda. How many times have I said to drop it?”  
Miranda waved a hand and finished the rest of the wine. She leant forward to refill her glass.  
“And I duly noted it.”

“There will be no control chip.”  
“Understood sir. I merely wanted to remind you that in case you changed your mind, this is the last time we can implant it.”

“Duly noted, Miranda,” Harper replied with a smirk. They’ve had this argument for the last year or so, during every evaluation, and she meticulously put it into her every report. Every time she conceded, but she still kept bringing it up. She was perhaps too well trained in team management. “What is it that bothers you about this?” he asked despite himself. He would rather not have this discussion again.

But he was in a good mood.

Miranda shrugged. “We spent an inordinate amount of money and resources on this project, sir. Not to mention the ship and securing some key crewmembers. It’s only prudent to protect our most important investment, don’t you think?”

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. Tell me something new.”

There was a longer pause. He could tell she was giving it serious thought.

“I’ve been through his psych profile a hundred times. I’ve combed through his relationships with his crew. We tailored everything around him with the new Normandy and the crew. We _know_ he has issues with authority and we _know_ he is not a fan of Cerberus. How do you expect to keep him from eventually breaking rank and divulge our secrets to the Alliance? Or to the Citadel Council?”

Harper closed his eyes and hummed thoughtfully, sloshing the melting ice in his glass.  
“Shepard is many things, Miranda, but he is not known to betray his allies. It is exactly his integrity that we can count on. That, and his uncanny ability to inspire loyalty in his team.”

“I still don’t see how any form of a control over his–” Miranda started, but Harper lifted a hand to silence her.

“You cannot guarantee that his personality would remain intact if we meddled with his mind. I don’t have to tell you how delicate a machine the human brain is. We need _that_ Shepard. We need the charismatic leader who, in the most critical moments, would remain true to himself and defy orders to get the job done: to save humanity.”

Miranda frowned. He could see that she still doubted his conclusions. He could not fault her for it, there was very little hard evidence that he could provide her. She was also trained not to trust, although he suspected that she would be just as wary on her own. Miranda seemed to have no thoughts to spare about altruism. She seemed to ponder his words and he knew she was going through all the possible ways this argument could play out.

“Very well,” she conceded after a few heartbeats. She was obviously deferring to his judgement, her frown disappearing and her features relaxing.

Harper watched her for a few more seconds and found himself grow frustrated. Miranda’s compliance bothered him more than her insistence on the subject. He found himself sighing.

“I know this sounds irrational to you. Like a religious conviction. After all, I even named the project Lazarus.” He poured himself a generous amount of whiskey that even Miranda noticed. “I also know that you are still not convinced.”

“I’m sorry–” she started, almost remorseful. She clearly didn’t want to push the issue, just put an end to the discussion, which just frustrated Harper even more. She had nothing to apologize for.

“Frankly, I’m more concerned about _you_ , Miranda.”

Miranda looked up at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. She furrowed her brow, ready to defend herself.

“Me? What could possibly–”  
“How many times did we have a disagreement about an operation?”

Miranda frowned again, her discomfort growing and pondered for a few seconds.

“Fourteen times.” She had impeccable memory.  
“How many times have I been right?”  
“Nine times. I still don’t understand why–”  
“What about the other five?”  
“The operation failed.”  
“And yet you went through with it. Why?”  
“Because that is the chain of command. And you are my boss.”  
“But you were right.”  
“I-I guess I was.” Realization started to dawn on her, or at least she seriously considered his point.

“Maybe Shepard would have said no and went his own way about it. Or found another solution, one that you could not think of. Maybe he would have succeeded where you failed.”

Miranda winced. Harper could tell she was not happy about taking the blame for those cases, but she remained silent despite the obvious unfairness.

“Don’t you agree, Miranda?”  
“I…” she paused, struggling to find the right words. “I see your point, sir.”  
“That’s not what I asked.”

Miranda bit her lip and nodded, her indignation suppressed before it could manifest. But Harper could not stop here now.

“Stand up!” he barked, putting more strength into his words. He saw her blink in surprise, but the next moment she rose, folding her long legs from the couch and standing straight. “Lose the robe.”

Miranda’s confusion was obvious now. She shot a dubious glance at him, as if checking his intentions, but even before she could evaluate the situation she shrugged her shoulders and let the robe slip off her body, down her arms and pool around her feet on the floor. There she stood, in all her naked glory in front of him.

This time, however, he was not marveling in the sight, and his desires did not stir. It felt more like an end of an era. Seventeen years of their work was hanging in the balance.

“Now, why did you do that?” he asked her in a warmer, more thoughtful tone.  
“I–” she stammered, frowning to try and keep calm. “I thought maybe you wanted to… change the subject, too.”

Harper shook his head. She looked gorgeous, standing there naked, dignified, her words stirring his desires again. He had to resist.

“You did it because I told you to,” he said. She stood there, not trying to cover herself, not trying to move. “Now you’re just rationalizing.”  
“I don’t understand what is the purpose of this… exercise.”  
Harper motioned him closer, which she did, almost automatically.  
“Answer the question.”

Miranda frowned again, raking her brain, visibly anxious now.  
“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can, Miranda,” Harper said patiently. “Mankind has been doing it for millennia now. Taking the traits most useful to their purposes and molding life to suit their needs. Agriculture. Domestication. You take the genes you need and nurture them, and weed out the rest. It’s all coded in there somewhere,” he gently touched her arm and pulled her down so she would kneel at his feet. “We did it instinctively, without knowing what we were doing. As technology improved, it became… easier in a sense. More convenient. In-utero genetic enhancements are pretty common these days.”

Harper paused for a bit until he sipped into his drink, fidgeting with Miranda’s hair absently and watched Miranda’s expression revealing her turmoil, realization and shock.

“You are the pinnacle of what humanity can achieve. Getting rid of bad traits. Cutting out strands and splicing in favorable ones, even from other species. Mammals, mostly, of course. Like dogs...”

He could see Miranda’s eyes go wide with shock and disgust.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not like Henry mixed in dog genes into your DNA… although he probably could have, if he wanted to. But he’s too much of a purist for that. But the same codes that make a dog loyal and obey are in there somewhere…”

Miranda managed to blink and shake her head in confusion, suddenly very self-conscious about her situation and hugged herself, her cheeks blushing.  
“That couldn’t… I am not…” she muttered, and Harper could already see her mind switching into gear and slowly shaking off the shock to process Harper’s words.

“It only makes sense that Henry would want his investment to have not only the desirable traits, sexuality and affinities, but also a safety measure. Obedience. Something to make sure his offspring wouldn’t rebel against him.”

“Oh,” Miranda sighed, looking away from Harper and staring at the carpet.

“Of course, in genetics you can program only so much… Like reacting to authority figures. Dominant males, for example.”

Miranda was visibly shaken and embarrassed, a very rare sight, something Harper haven’t seen since the early days of their acquaintance. He could tell she was processing the information and already arriving at conclusions.

“If that’s true, I couldn’t have gotten away from Henry…” she started.  
“Unless there was another authority figure,” Harper finished with a soft, all-knowing smile.

Miranda glanced up sharply at him.  
“It was incredibly arrogant of Henry to think nobody could come along who had a more commanding presence than him. Think, Miranda. When did you start making plans to get away from him?”

He didn’t need her answer. He could see she searched her memory back around the time when Oriana was born… and Henry introduced Harper to Miranda, no doubt, as a prospective candidate for marriage. The wheels started to turn.

“Do you see now? After our second meeting, it was inevitable that you would run to me.”

He waited and watched her expression, watching resentment starting to creep in. Silence started to stretch between them, while he waited for Miranda to process everything and start asking questions.

She reached for her robe, stopped and looked at him, asking for confirmation. He could see that even this caused turmoil in her, so he quickly nodded and turned his attention to his drink, sipping into it while Miranda covered herself.

“How long have you known?” she asked finally, wrapped up tightly in the soft, white fabric.

“I suspected it for a while, but I didn’t have proof until recently.”  
“How long?” she asked again, more firmly.  
“About a year. That’s when I had enough proof. When you had your last checkup, I asked the lab to run additional tests to confirm. It’s not easy to do a deep genetic analysis.” He motioned her to sit back onto the couch before he continued. “Your insistence on controlling Shepard made me look into the matter finally. In the last few years I toyed with the idea, but it was not relevant until now.”

Miranda scoffed. He could see that she had her doubts, and of course, she was right. It has been almost a decade if not more since he had his suspicions.

“Why now?” Miranda asked, but before he could answer, she went on. “Because Shepard is another alpha. He has exceptional leadership skills and a strong charisma. You are worried that if Lazarus is a success, he’ll sway my loyalty.”

Harper hummed and nodded thoughtfully.

“So you’ll take me off the project after it’s completed and give him another XO on the new Normandy.” She started to sound bitter and defeated. She was becoming aware that she could not fight his decision. She was incapable of it. Miranda was not particularly happy when he pulled her off the field to stick her into a lab for two years, and Harper knew she was looking forward to joining Shepard’s team if they pull off this impossible task. Now she could see it all fading away.

“Unless there are other options,” he said, clinking the ice in his glass. “Besides, whom could I put under Shepard as a second-in-command, who is competent and loyal?”

Miranda grimaced and shot a glance at him, hugging herself as she slowly sipped back onto the couch, pouring herself a generous glass of wine. Her world was still crumbling, and he could see that she was retracing her steps back in time, probably uncomfortably far into the past, searching for signs and patterns. He had to distract her.

“I have many good people on my staff, Miranda. Capable men, ex-Alliance people, veterans, professionals from all walk of life. I could shortlist a half dozen who could be a good XO on any other ship. But their loyalties have limits, just like my trust. Some of them I bought, some are fiercely loyal but most of them not seeing the bigger picture. Not thinking outside the box. But you, Miranda–” he waved at her and paused until he got her full attention. “You know me, my expectations, my vision. And I’ve seen you grow into this role and earn your place. Not many can rise to this level. So we know where we stand with each other.”

He lit up another cigarette and exhaled the smoke loud and long before continuing.  
“We’ve done the impossible so far. Why would such a small thing as genetics stop us now?”

There was a long pause. Miranda was already thinking about the new dilemma. That was good. Dwelling into her past right now would not be constructive. There will be time for that later. 

“DNA cannot be rewritten,” Miranda said matter-of-factly, hopping to the next item without missing a beat. “What are you proposing?”

“Inhibition. An artificial gland, for example, that produces enzymes that counteract certain chemical reactions in the brain associated with instinctive reactions. One would probably have to periodically medicate themselves to keep the inhibitor running, but nothing drastic.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Can it be done?”

“That’s what took me so long to figure out. Presented with your… condition and with our current research into counteracting Reaper indoctrination, I put the two together.” He tapped his omnitool. “A team already came up with a treatment proposal. It was done anonymously and strictly confidential. You can go over the plans, choose the medical team to perform the necessary interventions.”

He saw Miranda’s expression change. The subtle wrinkles on her brow, blue eyes growing bigger and glinting with moisture, those full lips twitching to fight the emotions simmering below the surface as the realization slowly started to hit her.

A faint pang of regret hit him, knowing this could well be the end of their more intimate affair. It was a price he had to pay.  
“It proved to be a dead end on the indoctrination front, because this is genetics we understand. The data may be useful, though, and we learned a lot, and if the… side effects could solve your dilemma, at least we got something out of it.”

“I-I don’t know what to say…” Miranda muttered, her voice trembling, eyes getting wetter.

“I am sure you will see the irony in changing someone’s brain chemistry to get rid of such subtle control, seeing as my reasons for not changing Shepard is the risk of meddling with his personality. I hope this finally proves my point for insisting not to meddle with his mind.” He flicked the ash from the tip of his cigarette before adding one final thought. “We have no way to test if these treatments affect the personality, but if it’s a risk _you_ are willing to take…”

He let the thought hang in the air. The silence returned, Miranda sipping her drink, Harper smoking his cigarette, both of them thoughtful. It went on for a while, none of them feeling the need to talk, or feel awkward about it.

This was it, then. The end of an era. Harper hedged a lot on this, letting her go, so to speak, and he could only hope this would pay off the same way that taking her in did.

Seventeen years. He had his doubt that Miranda would ever be truly free, but this was as close as she would get to make her own decisions, even if it meant that there was a slight chance that she might one day disobey his orders. He came to appreciate that ethereal concept called “free will,” and Project Lazarus was certainly as much a philosophical endeavour as a scientific one. 

One day Cerberus will unlock the mysteries of Reaper indoctrination, and then he would have both the ailment and the cure in his grasp.

Until then, he would have his fond memories of this perfect creature sitting so confused across from him - a reminder that perfection was attainable. She didn’t know it, but she was a symbol, a sign for him. He may have voluntarily erected an invisible barrier between them from now on, but it was a small price to pay.

He’ll remember her purity, her awkward charm at the beginning, and the way she blossomed into everything they have hoped for and more. Not just her classic figure, those soft-and-firm, smooth curves, the arch of her waist, the roundness of her hips and chest, that elusive smile, but the laser-sharp eyes, her sharp mind and incredible focus to achieve her goals… their goals.

She did her part, the rest was now in his hand. If Shepard ever wakes up, if he fulfills his role in The Illusive Man’s plans…

...then nothing will stop humanity.


End file.
